


Lover After Me

by o0SongAndSilence0o



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 21:22:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6582892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/o0SongAndSilence0o/pseuds/o0SongAndSilence0o
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been nearly six years since the death of the Archdemon. Six years since a night that began in drunken laughter and ended in Alistair questioning everything he knew about himself. Questions that had gone unanswered...until a certain bedraggled man was caught trespassing in the castle's store-rooms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lover After Me

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this was SUPPOSED to be a one page, over and done with thing. But then that little voice whispered in my head "Hey! You could stop it like this and do more later". The flesh is weak, and so I listened.

The dreams.

Still so long after, the dreams still tore him from sleep, leaving the Ferelden King clutching his chest as a cold sweat ravaged his body. And so often, he could not bear to try and go back to bed. There was nothing more than a hot mug of mead and waiting for the sunrise that could soothe him. And really, what else did he have? Who could put their arms about him and help drown out Melanie Cousland's scream as the Archdemon fell. Who there understood the dark whisperings within his mind, born from the taint coursing through his body?

Looking back to his bed, Alistair's eyes rested on the sleeping form of his wife. Anora had been far from patient with him, even going so far as to spurn him in the beginning when he asked for her to console him. She rolled over then, a movement that momentarily startled the king. Luckily, she hadn't awoken. Being a Warden, Alistair knew from the start he would never have children of his own. Being crowned changed his outlook on the matter, though, to one of necessity.

But however much it was needed, his body would never be able to produce. They both knew that. Which is how it came to pass that the heavy womb of his bitter wife was filled with the child of another. They agreed to maintain a ruse for the people; a game that he found rather hysterical. The bastard king succeeded by his wife's bastard child. Oh the irony of it all.

"Perhaps it will become a family tradition." he muttered with a faint smile as he took another sip from his mug.

 

No sooner had the liquid passed his lips than a cautious knock on the door caused Alistair to all but throw the cup, alcohol spilling all over his robe. Groaning, he set the container down and shuffled quickly to the door before the visitor woke Her Royal Belligerence. Sliding the last few steps, he creaked open the door. 

"Gavin. What is going on that causes you to retrieve me from my bedchamber? And how did you know I was awake?" the king hissed through the gap.

"W-well, you're almost always awake at this hour" the embarrassed serving boy replied. 

Drawing the wet robe about himself tighter, Alistair nodded. "Ah. Right you are. So, what did you need?"

"They found someone. He was snoopin' about the granary. The guards brought 'im to a cell, but he wanted me to tell you something." Oh how nervous the boy sounded. But why?

After a moment of waiting, "Well?"

"He said. 'The Crows do not forget their friends.' " So carefully he said it, with the tone of someone trying hard to remember something exactly.

 

Alistair's face went hot and in that moment, little Gavin was forgotten. Before he could register what exactly he was doing, the royal's bare feet were slapping rapidly against the stone of the stairs as he rushed to the lower floors. Reaching the door to the holding cells, he stopped to catch his breath. Head leaning against the cool wooden door, thoughts and memories continued to swim around with reckless abandon.

Flashes of white hair tickling his nose, breath that tasted of rich red wine...

The former Warden had thought those sensory memories were lost to time. Would they return, in the flesh, upon opening the door? No. No, surely he could not allow that of himself. It was just once...just an accident. Wasn't it?

 

Without permission, his hand closed on the iron handle of the door, pulling it open. Alistair's thought had not caught up with his body, save for the nearly painful racing of his heart. The barrier removed, he could hear a soft whistling coming from a cell towards the center of the room. In a way, were this Leliana or even Sten, he knew that a similar reaction would have taken place. He had not seen any of them in now over half a decade. His coronation had been their goodbye. To be reunited with one of them? That alone made his heart sing.

 

But this was rather different. Feet betraying him, the king hesitantly approached the bars lining the cell of the whistling occupant.

Just as he expected. Very little had changed about the assassin. The same ghostly hair and golden eyes, Alistair blanked a moment as he looked his own body over in wonder if he had changed any in this time.

 

"Ah!" a voice piped up, the heavy accent wrenching a sharp pang in the monarch's chest. "I was wondering when you'd come for me."

Innuendo not lost on him, it took enough effort as it was to meet the Antivan's gaze and force his voice to cooperate.

"It's...it, oh blast it, Zevran....I thought I'd never see you again."

 

 


End file.
